aqua vitae
by silfaeyn
Summary: Daine is a wildmage, a halfgod living in the human realm. Everyone thought she was one of a kind, until Thom of Pirate’s Swoop finds a girl one winter, something stranger even than Daine.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **aqua vitae

**Summary: **Daine is a wild-mage, a half-god living in the human realm. Everyone thought she was one of a kind, until Thom of Pirate's Swoop finds a girl one winter, something stranger even than Daine.

**Notes: **My first dabble in the Tamora Pierce fandom; I apologise if I've spelt something wrong or gotten my social classes muddled - the detail in the novels is astounding and it's entirely possible that I've missed something or contradicted something she wrote. For that, I apologise profusely and hope it doesn't bother you too much when you read ;)

---

**One**

The wind whipped around the mountains, screaming its fury and lashing out with icy fingers at anything not safely tucked out of its path. In a small cave tucked out of sight between two large boulders a knight, a squire and their two horses tried valiantly to get out of the wind. They shivered as a gust tumbled through the cave entrance and raced around their temporary shelter, the horses flicking their tails and shifting their weight anxiously.

A small fleck of white ice, carried by the wind, settled on the knight's right cheek. The knight raised a gloved hand to his skin and brushed the flake away.

"Sir?" Squire Leon of Jesslaw asked cautiously.

"Snow, Leon," the young knight said. "Winter is early this year."

"After too short a summer," Leon agreed.

The knight, Thom, rolled his shoulders and climbed easily to his feet. "I hate to ask this of you, Leon, but if we don't leave now the Northern Pass might close over, and as much as I imagine Lady Maura won't object to us wintering in Fief Dunlath…"

"Let me just clean the cups and we can leave, sir," Leon agreed.

Thom felt a thankful smile tug at his lips, and he nodded. "Thank you, Leon."

"You do not need to thank me, sir," Leon said as he carefully tucked the utensils back into their packs and led the two horses toward the cave entrance.

Flambo, Thom's mount, shook his head irritably when Thom mounted, snorting at the small flakes of snow clinging to his long eyelashes.

"Easy boy," Thom said calmly, stroking the horse's neck with his gloved hand. "You ready, Leon?"

"Ready, sir."

"Then let's go."

The horses, used to travelling in poor weather over uneven ground, picked their way carefully along the mountain track while delicate snowflakes whirled around them and the wind shrieked its delight with the foolish travellers.

Thom, flinching as the wind bit through his cloaks, pulled his leather jerkin around him tightly and dug his chin beneath his clothing so it was better protected against the cold. Beside him, Leon imitated his movements rather than teasing his knight master for his bitter dislike of the cold.

"We can stop at Imdram to rest the horses and warm ourselves for a while," Thom decided as the trail steepened and the horses slowed their pace.

"Hopefully the Great Road North is not the Great Mud North yet," Leon said hopefully.

Thom grinned despite the cold. "I doubt you'll be lucky, Leon. The snows here mean the winter rains have started falling. I imagine it's been raining for weeks already."

"You are a pessimist, sir," Leon accused as the wind lessened for a few minutes.

"No, I'm just a realist," Thom disagreed.

"Begging your pardon, sir, I don't believe there's a difference."

Thom chuckled at his squire, until the wind picked up again as though punishing them for enjoying their travel.

Several marks later the trail evened out and the wind settled down. Heavy grey clouds still hung low in the sky, threatening rain and allowing only a miserable watery sunlight to banish the darkness of the night. The horses' hooves clipped steadily on the narrow road, small clouds of dust puffing up where they walked.

"No mud!" Leon said gleefully after some time, breaking the silence between the riders.

Thom looked around thoughtfully, frowning. "No mud," he agreed.

"I told you that you were a pessimist. Sir."

"It appears as though it hasn't rained here for several weeks," Thom said.

Leon shrugged. "Dust is easier to work with than mud."

"Dust doesn't grow crops as well as watered soil," Thom returned calmly. "I didn't realise there was a drought."

"There can't be a drought," Leon said. "We would have been told if there was a drought."

Though the words Leon spoke were true, Thom looked around uneasily at the dryness of the landscape. "There hasn't been a drought in Tortall since the drought after King Jonathan took the throne."

"We can probably ask at Imdram," Leon pointed out as they reached the crest of a small hill and looked down over the small town.

Thom nodded agreement. "And while we're asking I'm going to have a long, hot wash."

"While we're asking?" Leon asked innocently.

Thom rolled his eyes. "I'm beginning to wonder why I agreed to take a squire, much more why I took you."

"But sir," Leon said blandly, "if you didn't have a squire to look after your mother would want you to have a wife to look after."

Thom glanced at his squire. "I'm beginning to think a wife would be less trouble than you."

Leon grinned. "Even Lady Elenine of Greenrise?"

Thom blanched, and then clutched at his saddlehorn when Flambo skipped sideways to avoid a small stone on the trail.

"Not a word, Squire," Thom threatened as he regained his seat righted himself in the saddle. "Not one blessed word."

"I wouldn't dream of it, sir."

---

The Golden Galleon was emptier than Thom had ever seen it on his journeys to the North and back. Finch, the keeper who had once given Thom and his siblings a delicately spun sugar creation as a treat when their mother wasn't looking, was cleaning tables when Thom and Leon entered the tavern.

"Well if it i'n't Sir Thom!" the man exclaimed after he looked up and saw the newcomers. "Bless m'soul, laddie, I havena seen ye since ye wen' away ter the City o' the Gods!"

Thom grinned at the old man. "That was less than two seasons ago, Master Finch."

Finch waved his hands as though it was nothing more than a technicality to be ignored. "Wha' can I get ye, laddie?"

"Some soup for myself and my squire would be appreciated, and if one of your boys would give our mounts a rub and a feed I'll pay him a copper."

The soup, when it came, was as thick and rich as Thom remembered Finch's soups being. The man himself continued his work while Thom and Leon ate, but once they'd finished he brought them some juice and settled himself at their table with a jug of mead. "Ye headin' home for the winter, lad?"

"Yes, sir," Thom nodded. "We received word from my mother that the Baron Myles of Olau has taken ill."

"Baron Myles, he's a fine man," Finch commented, taking a drink of his own mead. "Not many nobles as ye can say that of. Beggin' yer pardon o' course, laddie."

Thom looked around the empty tavern. "I don't remember you ever having this much time to natter, Master Finch."

Finch smiled crookedly. "There's been no rain, laddie, an' the farmers havena got two coppers to rub toge'er, much less wi' which to buy mead."

"So it is a drought then?"

Finch hesitated. "Only in Imdram, it appears."

Thom narrowed his eyes. "How do mean only in Imdram?"

"All o' the towns aroun' us are gettin' winter rains – have been for weeks. Imdram hasna had none."

"Is it natural?" Leon asked.

"If by natural, sir Squire, yeh mean nature mote it so, I don' think it be natural."

"Magic?"

"If it is, even the King's Mage couldna see the spells."

"What do you think it is?" Thom asked.

"Them immortals," Finch said firmly. "Things been goin' funny since they turned up. But Master Salmalin says it's not the way of immortals to control the weather."

"It's not," Thom said, eyeing the squat man once again taking a drink of his mead.

"Who's to say they canna?" Finch demanded, wiping his mouth.

"What are you scared to tell Master Salmalin, Finch?" Thomas asked dryly.

The man hesitated, his eyes flitting from Thom to Leon. "Ye were always sharper than most knew, laddie," Finch said finally.

"Well?"

"Master Glavestock went North to Scanra jus' afore ye went to the City o' the Gods," Finch said. "It hasna rained since he come back."

"Finch, I hardly think-"

"He brought summat wi' 'im. Summat what I don' know, but he's bin 'ere drinkin' my mead an' droppin' sly comments as what he knows summat 'bout the weather."

"And you didn't tell Master Salmalin this?"

Finch scowled. "Mages is all the same, laddie, they nivver listens to wha' ye tell 'em."

"I'm a Mage," Thom pointed out.

"But ye're also a knight, laddie, and ye're mother'd knock ye flat if ye didn' listen."

Thom grinned at the words, lifting his juice to his lips.

"I know, young Thom, I know Master Glavestock is doin' summat bad, and I know the King's people are busy with the immortals. I'm asking ye to look, is all, while ye horses rest."

Thom put his mug down and sighed, looking across at Leon. "Better get our cloaks and weapons."

Leon bobbed his head and disappeared out of the tavern.

"Thank ye, Thom, ye're a good lad."

Thom didn't bother telling Finch he wasn't a lad anymore; the man still called his mother a 'lass' and it was unlikely he was going to change.

---

The same heavy clouds which had been hanging in the sky all day were still rolling darkly through the sky. Thom studied them as he walked with Leon through the dusty streets of Imdram towards Master Glavestock's home.

"They look like they'll open up and rain down on everything any minute now," Leon commented.

A white crack of lightening danced through the clouds, followed by a ringing peal of thunder. The air crackled uneasily, causing Thom's hair to stand on end.

"I don't like the look of those clouds," Thom replied. "I can't detect any sign of magic at all, but something doesn't feel right."

"If Master Numair couldn't detect the spells there probably aren't any," Leon pointed out.

"Probably. It's also possible Numair was busy with something more interesting and didn't pay attention to Finch, or Numair decided Finch was just another drunk Taverner spinning a tale." And given the mage in question's ability to ignore things when he was busy with a spell or a research of his own, Thom didn't doubt the Mage hadn't paid attention to Finch.

Glavestock, Thom realised as they stopped in front of a small house, was a small time mage. The broken down appearance of the house and stillness of the yard suggested that the man hardly made ends meet, let alone lived off a profit. The few protective spells, and spells for prosperity which Thom detected with his own Gift were flimsy and almost pitiful; hardly enough power in them to qualify as spells.

"A mage lives here?" Leon questioned.

"Apparently," Thom said shortly, "let's see if he's home."

Glavestock wasn't home, but the front door opened easily enough with some magical encouragement.

"Sir," Leon said uneasily, "are you certain-"

"I remember there was a page who spent almost six weeks-"

"That was a dare!" Leon interrupted hotly.

Thom smiled in satisfaction. "Let's go look inside; we're not going to steal anything."

Inside was as shabby as out, Thom thought with distaste. It was dirty and dark, cramped with broken furniture and ratty linens. The mage's workroom was just as cluttered and dusty; Thom decided it was no wonder the mage accomplished nothing, as messy and disorganised as he was.

He had called Leon to leave, when something caught his eye.

"Well look here."

"A lock," Leon murmured when Thom pointed it out.

"What do you make of that, squire?"

"It's a very expensive lock, in a very broken house. Either our mage has something of great value…"

"Or?"

"He's hiding something."

"Excellent, Squire Leon. See, this is an educational experience after all."

"Am I going to learn how to pick locks too?" Leon questioned dryly.

"No," Thom smiled, "the lock is spelled. This is my work."

Thom's Gift, white and clear, burned brightly inside him. It was easy to take a small tendril and examine the lock, watching the spells flare under his power.

"Can you open it?"

The soft click of the lock opening was Thom's answer. "Basic lock spells," the knight said. "My Da had me fooling with those before I could reach the door knobs."

Leon grinned. "I should have known."

With the lock open, Leon and Thom could raise the small wooden door in the floor easily, propping it open a blunt knife Leon found on a nearby bench top.

"Keep watch," Thom ordered his squire.

Leon, too well trained to argue, nodded and stepped back, allowing Thom to carefully climb through the small opening onto the stairs. A second later a small globe of white fire formed in front of Thom who grinned and shrugged. "It's dark," he said, "I don't want to break my neck. Imagine explaining that to my mother."

With his globe of light in front of him, Tom moved slowly down the rickety stairs into the dark cellar below. The room was small, as though a hollow had simply been carved out of the house rather than built as part of the foundations. As though to confirm his architectural musings, Thom saw the floor was dirt rather than stone, and that there were very few supports.

Reaching the dirt floor, Thom looked around the room cautiously, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. There was a small pile of cloths – deerskins, Thom thought – lying in one corner, a broken crate, and a pail which Thom decided smelt very much like a bed pan. He was about to call up to Leon, when he heard a rustle of movement behind him. Thom turned around to investigate the sound, but before he could see or do anything something attacked him. It snarled and hissed, nails raking at his face and teeth biting his arms deeply as he tried to fend it off.

"Sir Thom?" Leon called down anxiously.

Thom grunted, managed to get his hand around the thing's mouth and pushed it away from himself. It was heavy and fought like a wild animal; its legs tangled with his and he fell over backwards, landing with a jolt on the hard-packed ground. Two heartbeats later he had rolled over and pinned the creature beneath his weight; it took a few more beats to escape its nail bearing limbs, and the sharp teeth.

"I'm okay, Leon," Thom called up breathlessly.

During his scuffle, he'd forgotten about his light and let it fade. Now he called it up again, bathing his captive with a soft white light. In the glow it struggled away from him, as though the light hurt it. Dirty fur, resembling a woman's white-blond hair was wrapped around the creature's face and upper limbs.

Thom frowned.

He pinned both its forelegs with one hand above the creatures head, and used his freehand to touch the fur. By the light of his Gift it appeared and felt like hair under the thick caking of mud and filth,. He pushed the fur out of the way, and gasped.

It wasn't fur, and his captive wasn't an animal.

"My Lady," he gasped, stunned, "I apologise, I did not realise…"

The woman he was pinning to the ground was pale under the dirt clinging to her skin and the rags of her clothing. "I'm going to get off you now, my Lady," he said gently, though she showed no signs of understanding him.

When he climbed off her, she lay on the ground, unmoving, watching him with eyes that were so pale they appeared colourless under his white Gift. He held out his hand to her to help her to her feet, but she didn't move, only watched him with her pale eyes. Her gaze was steady; he could not interpret it, but it made him uncomfortable so he cleared his throat and fluttered his fingers as though to convince her to grab his hand.

Slowly, warily, she sat up and raised a hand, not to grab his but as though she was reaching toward something. The globe of light, Thom realised, and slowly lowered it for her.

She brushed his Gift with her fingers, and he felt it in his soul as though someone had tightened something and tested it. His legs quivered and buckled beneath him, and he slid to a graceless heap on the floor. He briefly thought he was grateful that Leon was not visible to witness him collapsing like a weak-willed female. Thom tried to swallow but his mouth was strangely dry.

The girl – or was she a grown woman? – was still touching his globe of light. Slowly, watching her steadily, he reached out his own hand and let his fingers touch it too. She lowered her hand, and his Gift came back to him. He felt warm and full again, as though he was in control of his limbs once more.

"Sir, what's happening?"

"I'll be right there," Thom called, but his voice croaked in his throat and he felt like he'd just fought a great battle and lost. "My Lady?"

She didn't answer. "I am Sir Thom of Pirates Swoop, my Lady," he told her, studying her. "Who may you be? Or do you not speak?"

The girl didn't move or speak as he climbed unsteadily to his feet. He held his hand out to her again. She paused for a moment, and then lifted her hand, resting her dirty fingers in his palm.

"It's okay," he told her quietly, closing his fingers around hers. "You're safe now."

As he helped her climb to her feet and led her up the stairs, he heard the thunder outside and the small house shook beneath the fury of the breaking storm.

"I told you it would rain- Oh, sir…" Leon stuttered, his jaw working but no sound coming out.

"Find us a cloak please, Leon," Thom said.

The girl clung to his hand, almost hiding herself behind his back as Leon tried to look at her. Thom felt a fierce surge of protectiveness, humbled that she appeared to trust him, and squeezed her hand lightly. This, he thought, is why he didn't mind being a knight some days. The gratitude and trust from people whom had he helped reminded him why it was worth killing men who threatened their safety.

"It's okay," he told her, as Leon rummaged through a closet for a cloak, "Leon is my squire. He won't hurt you either."

"Here," Leon said, bearing a dusty old cloak. "This is all I found."

Thom took it, trying not to sneeze, and offered it to the girl. "It's raining outside," he said gently, "you should put this on."

She stared at the cloak, not releasing Thom's hand nor moving toward the garment.

"Come on," Thom pressed. "You'll get cold, wet and sick if you don't wear it. I don't like the cold myself, Leon hates the wet and mud, and the gods know that it's not a good idea to get sick."

"Maybe she doesn't know how to put it on," Leon suggested.

Thom raised his eyebrows. "Leon, I sometimes wonder how you made it past the academic requirements of being a page."

Leon shrugged. "They liked my wholesome personality."

Rolling his eyes, Thom offered the cloak to the girl again.

She hissed at him, baring her teeth and shaking her head in refusal, just like a horse.

Leon raised his eyebrows. "Begging your pardon, Sir Knight, but I'll say it again – maybe she doesn't know how to put it on or what it's for."

Thom sighed, rubbing at his forehead. "I don't need this right now," he mumbled to himself. "I need to get to Corus."

"Let's take her to the local magistrate," Leon suggested calmly. "He'd know if there are any local girls missing, and where she'd belong."

"What if she's not a local girl?" Thom asked. "What if she's from Scanra? Mithros knows she looks as though she's from the North with her fair colouring."

Leon shrugged. "Maybe Master Finch knows, sir." The squire grinned. "After all, he's the one who suggest we come have a look here."

Thom offered the girl the cloak again; she refused to touch it. "Let's go back to the Golden Galleon," he decided, "and if Finch doesn't know who she is or where she's from, he'll probably know where I can find a horse and some supplies for her."

"We're taking her with us?" Leon asked, raising his eyebrows.

"We don't know who she is, Leon, and she doesn't seem to be talking. I'm not about to just abandon her with a local magistrate – Mithros knows where she'd end up, and I'd rather not have that logged against my name."

The girl's fingers tightened against his, and she stepped closer to him. Thom valiantly ignored the rich scent of filth hanging around her and let her stand close.

"Maybe Finch will have a bathing tub," Leon said mildly.

"Hopefully he has more than one," Thom muttered.

---

Master Finch did have several bathing tubs, knew where to find a good horse for sale, and where they could obtain several sets of clothing and necessities for a young woman. What Thom had not bargained on when deciding to take the young girl to the Golden Galleon, was Finch's reaction when he saw the girl.

"I'll not have her in my tavern!" Finch yelled, his face pale and lips tight – Thom wasn't sure if it was fear or anger.

"Master Finch!" Thom said sharply, frowning. Not normally one to place a lot of importance on station and the way in which different classes associated, Thom was not above arguing with commoners. He was, however, tired and ill at ease, worried about his Grandda and slightly uneasy around the girl. He did not need a commoner to argue with him, much less refuse his requests.

Finch's eyes flashed but he shut his mouth. "Begging yer pardon, sir, but I'll no have immortals in my tavern."

Thom's mouth dropped open. "A what!"

"Immortal," Finch said stubbornly. "That wench is immortal. Can ye not see it?"

If Thom were feeling like his normal self he probably would have laughed, or at least made a jest with Finch. As it was, his head hurt and he wanted nothing more than a hot bath before he mounted Flambo again and made for Corus.

"The young lady," Thom said sharply, "is no more immortal than you or I. She's human, Finch. I don't see silver claws or beaks or scales or anything unusual about her."

"She's immortal, laddie, ye mark my words. I can' tell, jus' like I see ye Gift in ye," Finch argued. "She controls the weather. She's wha' Glavestock brung back from Scanra. Look at her, Master Thom! You can' tell me she is a common wench."

No, Thom thought bleakly, she wasn't a common wench at all.

"Even if she were an immortal, Master Finch, she is here as my guest and I'd appreciate her being seen to as such."

The girl in question, bedraggled and streaked with mud from walking through the storm without a cloak, stood quietly next to Thom, her hand still holding his tightly and her face unchanging as the men argued. Whether she understood the spoken language or not, Thom couldn't tell; her face remained as impassive and expressionless as it was when he found her.

The only person that he knew who was almost as good at holding her emotions and thoughts in check, was Keladry of Mindelan who had grown up amongst Yamani. This girl, he thought bleakly, would make the Yamani seem outgoing and full of expression.

"She can use a tub in a backroom," Finch relented finally, his bearing stiff as he spoke.

"And an assistant?"

"Old Yenna will help," Finch said reluctantly. "Yenna'll clothe 'er too."

"Thank you," Thom said.

Finch's lips were tightly pressed together when he nodded his head in acknowledgement. "Ye tubs're in the bathin' rooms. Water shoul' astill be hot."

---

Thom and his squire were ready to leave the Golden Galleon less than a candlemark later. Clean, warm and dry, Thom felt more relaxed than he had since he'd first received his mother's summons to return to Corus. In the stable, he ran his hands over the pretty little mare Leon had acquired on his behalf for his mysterious damsel in distress. As he checked the bay's legs and teeth, his thoughts turned to the girl.

The scowl settled on his face without him realising it, as he remembered the fuss the girl had made when he'd pried her hand from his. She'd hissed and scrabbled and raked his skin with her ragged nails as she fought to keep hold of him; that behaviour alone had almost convinced him Finch was right – normal girls didn't hiss and scratch people. However, he mused, she must have been through a lot, so it was excusable.

What exactly was it that she had been through, he wondered? Who was she, where was she from, and what on earth had she been doing in Glavestock's cellar? His mouth tightened – he'd informed the magistrate about Glavestock, but the errant mage was not to be found anywhere in Imdram – Thom hoped to Mithros the mage would return before long, because if he didn't and Thom hadn't found the girl, doubtless she would have starved to death.

"I thought she was a good mare," Leon commented.

"She's fine," Thom answered. "Nice lines, sweet temperament – I'm surprised you found one like this here."

"You were glaring so fiercely I thought I'd made a mistake," Leon confessed easily, leaning on the stall door.

"I was considering what would have happened to the girl if we hadn't found her," Thom admitted.

"We did find her though," Leon pointed out. "Old Yenna says she's almost ready."

"Good," Thom said abruptly. "We've wasted enough time. Let's saddle the horses so we can leave as soon as she's done. And we need to name the mare," he added, patting the animals rump gently.

"I'd be more concerned about the girl's name," Leon pointed out, but went to get the saddles as instructed.

Not long after, Thom heard movement at the stable door. The old woman Yenna was there, along with a girl he almost didn't recognise.

"Mithros," he whispered, drawing the Sign on his chest.

She was younger than he'd thought. Much younger. He'd thought her around twenty, perhaps even as much twenty two. Clean and clothed, however, she looked even younger than Leon's sixteen years. The white-blond hair, which he'd initially mistaken for fur, fell straight past her shoulders to almost halfway down her back. Her skin, cleaned of mud and filth, was as pale as a Yamani's face covered with rice powder. Even her eyes were pale, almost colourless.

"She's ready to go, Sir Thom," Yenna said simply. "An' old Finch is right – she's immortal."

And now, Thom sighed, he'd have to agree with Finch. Free of filth, Thom could see the pale hair had a strange blue sheen to it, which reminded him of the time his sister Aly had dyed her hair blue, much to his mother's disgust. The girl's skin, if he stared at it closely, looked as though it too might have hints of blue in it.

An immortal. How did he end up with an immortal child to look after? Things like this weren't supposed to happen to him – they happened to his mother, Daine, Sir Keladry and even Aly. They didn't happen to him.

"Unless you're really looking at her," Leon said eventually, "you probably wouldn't notice the blue. It's really only a very small hint."

Thom privately agreed, but he also thought that given how pretty the immortal was, most people probably would look at her.

He sighed. "Immortal or not, we can't just leave her."

"Can she ride?" Leon asked.

Thom shrugged. "She'll learn."

It was still raining by the time the girl was mounted on her mare. Thom thought longingly of his rooms in the City of the Gods, and how warm they'd be with the fire burning merrily in his hearth. He thought of Pirates Swoop and how it didn't snow there, even in the winter. He even thought of the Great Southern Desert, and wondered if it was at all possible that he couldn't just keep out of the rain and stay warm.

He hated the cold, and riding in a rainstorm was cold, wet and muddy. He sighed, and mounted his horse under the shelter of a canvas cover. Turning Flambo's head toward the road, he made sure he had hold of the lead rope to guide the immortal's horse, and gently nudged his gelding forward. He checked to make sure the mare followed and that the immortal was still seated on her, and then settled himself in his saddle for a long, miserable ride.

The rain was cold and wet, and even though his oilskin protected him for the time being, Thom had ridden in the rain enough times to know it was only a matter of time before the water found ways under his robe.

---

_Any and all comments would be much appreciated; as I said, this is my first Tortall fic, and I would love some constructive criticism._

_Cheers,_

_Sil_


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: **aqua vitae

**Summary: **Daine is a wild-mage, a half-god living in the human realm. Everyone thought she was one of a kind, until Thom of Pirate's Swoop finds a girl one winter, something stranger even than Daine.

---

**two**

Myles of Olau was old, but he did not mind. He had lived a long and full life; he had married a beautiful woman, and had a family of the likes he had never dreamed would be his.

"What are you thinking?" Alanna asked quietly.

"The past," Myles murmured, smiling at his daughter. "That I was there for the beginning of all of this," he waved a feeble hand in the air; a gesture that once would have been grand and passionate.

"You'll be here for a lot more of it too," Alanna said firmly.

He smiled at her. "My dear, you of all people know better than that."

Her hand, when she took hold of his, was callused and worn, the skin showing signs of aging and the abuse it had born over the years. He traced a sunspot with his thumb, and smiled up at her.

"I am happy, Alanna," he said gently. "I have more than I dreamed of, and I have you to thank for that."

The Lioness was not famed for emotional outbursts, other than the fire of her quick temper. Myles was touched when he saw her eyes were thick with tears. "Come, come, dear," he said, patting her cheek softly, "don't turn weepy now."

She smiled at him and lifted his hand to her lips, kissing his fingers gently.

"I don't want to lose you," she said, holding his fingers against her cheek. "You've been more of a Da to me than… well." She chuckled wearily and placed his hand on the bed again. "Thom is on his way, Da, I know he'll want to talk to you."

"Good," Myles said. "He can tell me of the City of the Gods, and how much it's changed in the years since I've been there."

"Is there anything I can get you meanwhile?"

Myles of Olau was old and dying, but he was not dead yet. He looked at the woman he called his daughter, eyes innocent. "How about a drink for a dying man?"

Alanna raised her eyebrows at him in a way that reminded him of his nurse many, many years ago. "You want to die quicker?" she asked dryly.

"No," he said innocently, "just relaxed and happy."

"I'll get you some juice," she said instead.

She returned to his chambers shortly and placed a small cup beside his bed. "Don't expect me to give in every time you ask," she told him.

The alcohol burned as he swallowed it, and he welcomed its warmth like an old friend as it chased the cold fingers of age and death a little further away for a small period of time. Myles of Olau was old and dying, but he wasn't ready to go just yet.

---

The air was cold already, the breeze bringing the scent of snow to Alanna's nose. If it were not for Myles lying in his chambers, Alanna would have said her farewells and left Corus at the first hint of frost and headed for a warmer climate. However, her Da was not well and she was not prepared to leave just yet.

Rather than dwell on dark thoughts, she turned her attention to the weapon in her hands and the young woman in front of her bearing a similar weapon.

"What is on your mind, Lioness?" Princess Shinkokami asked, flicking the practice _glaive _toward Alanna with ease.

"Time, and how it goes," Alanna said grimly, blocking the parry and thrusting with the base of her weapon.

Shinkokami laughed with understanding, nodding her head so that her dark hair bounced emphatically. "Oh yes, I understand how it passes so quickly. Just yesterday I found a grey hair hiding on my head."

Alanna pulled a face, thinking of her own hair already mostly grey. She parried another thrust and danced out of Shinkokami's reach. "Yes, Princess, I can see you getting older every day."

Shinkokami smiled again – something Alanna was pleased to see the young woman did frequently in recent years – and tapped Alanna's arm with her _glaive_. "I can see age has not dulled your wit nor your tongue."

Alanna grinned and struck at the Princess with her weapon. "It hasn't dulled my skill either, though it has made my muscles complain louder."

"Roald mentioned you've sent word for Thom to return."

Alanna nodded, hot with exercise despite the cold air. "He hates travelling in the cold, but I imagine he'll be arriving any day."

"How is Sir Myles?" Shinkokami asked.

Alanna smiled. "Still nagging like an old woman for his drink," she said, "but he likes us to think he is better than he is."

"He is old," Shinkokami said. "Older than many, and there is not much to be done against age."

"No," Alanna agreed, "not much at all. Sometimes you don't realise how much time has passed until you actually think about it. I still remember my lessons with him and the other pages and it doesn't feel long ago, yet it was forty years ago."

Shinkokami grinned mischievously. "Now I do not feel quiet so old," she said.

Alanna spun and thrust with her _glaive_, knocking the Princess' weapon out of her hands. "Now I don't feel quite so old either!"

---

Alanna was eating with Daine, Numair and Nealan of Queenscove in the dining hall used by the Kings' Own. George was sitting with Myles under the pretext of 'discussing business' with him, but Alanna knew that her husband held a deep fondness and respect for her adoptive father, and that with George there she didn't have to worry about Myles.

Deliberately pushing darker thoughts away once again, Alanna turned her attention to the conversation around her table.

"And then," Numair was saying, "the little rat had the gall to tell me that his blood was bluer than mine if you please, and therefore I should respect what he had to say, him being all of ten years old! The pages do not have the respect for their elders the way they once did – even the conservatives with their emphasis on old ways are drifting from the code."

"It's not so much drifting from the code of chivalry as trying to undermine the progression," Alanna disagreed after swallowing a mouthful of deer. "Particularly," she continued, "the families with long histories of using servants to further their own gain. Jonathan's new laws are nettling those who are in danger of losing their income."

Nealan of Queenscove scowled darkly. "So because they can eat less pork at Midwinter festivals, they begrudge their servants being better treated."

"It's been their way of life for a long time, Queenscove," Alanna pointed out.

"My family has been around for a long time, and we have no objections to the new laws."

Alanna ground her teeth in irritation – even years after he finished his duties as his squire with her, Nealan still managed to rile her with his sarcasm. "Your family hasn't-"

"Daine, what is it?" Numair interrupted, his voice full of concern.

Alanna turned her attention from her former squire and looked at the wild-mage. The woman's face was pulled tight with concentration.

"I'm not sure," she admitted. "There's something… I'm not sure… something's coming."

"Immortal?" Numair asked quietly.

Alanna felt her body tense, wishing she wore her sword to the dining hall.

"I… I think so. I don't know what it is, Numair, but it doesn't feel dark like a Stormwing or a Hurrok."

"I'd have thought by now we'd have a fairly good grip on all the immortals still in the realm," Nealan said mildly.

Alanna flashed him a glare. "Should we alert the Palace Guard?"

Daine smiled oddly. "I think it's already inside the Palace. I'm going to go have a look."

"I'll go too," Numair said immediately, his sentiment echoed by both Alanna and Nealan.

As she followed Daine Alanna almost wished she had a squire again; a squire would be useful around now to collect her weapons for her.

"You see how useful I was?" Nealan drawled next to her, his eyes glinting mischievously despite the slight tension.

"The only thing useful about you, Queenscove, was your ability to provoke arguments quicker than I could, so we saved time we would have wasted on useless disagreements."

"I'm wounded."

Alanna quirked an eyebrow, and fell silent as they approached a set of stairs. A second year page almost collided with Daine on the stairs, the young boy swinging his arms wildly to keep his balance. "Mithros," the boy gasped as Numair shot out a hand and steadied him. "Thank you, Master Salamalin."

"A little more care, Page Elson."

The page bobbed his head in acknowledgement, and then paused when he caught sight of Alanna. "Oh, good!"

"Page Elson?" Numair questioned dryly.

"I have a message for the Lioness, and yourselves, sir," Page Elson said quickly. "From the stables; Sir Thom is arrived and would like for you to meet him there as soon as possible."

"Palace stables?" Alanna asked.

"No, ma'am, the private stables for Pirates Swoop."

Surprised by her son's choice in stabling, Alanna shrugged. "Thank you, Page Elson, we'll be there as soon as we've attended to another matter."

The page bobbed his head again, and turned to flee down the stairs.

"I don't remember ever having that much energy as a page," Nealan remarked.

"You didn't have it as a squire either, Queenscove," Alanna added.

"You are right though, Neal," Daine murmured, "he reminds me of Owen of Jesslaw; always moving and making me feel as though he lived in a world fifty times faster than the one I resided in."

Alanna chuckled.

"Are you still sensing the immortal, Daine?" Numair asked.

"Yes. I think we might find it in the stables – the direction is right."

Numair glanced at Alanna. "Strange, this immortal arriving at the same time and place as your son, Alanna."

Alanna frowned as they stepped outside into the rain, and hoped Thom knew what he was doing.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: **aqua vitae

**Summary: **Daine is a wild-mage, a half-god living in the human realm. Everyone thought she was one of a kind, until Thom of Pirate's Swoop finds a girl one winter, something stranger even than Daine.

---

**three **

Rather than take the immortal into the dining halls, Thom sent a message with a page summoning his mother, Daine and Numair to the stables. He was half way through brushing Flambo when they arrived.

"Thom!" his mother greeted him, "thank you for returning."

"How is Grandda?" Thom asked after greeting everyone.

"Oh, he's fine, still demanding his drink every day."

Thom grinned; if Grandda Myles was drinking everything was fine.

"How about you?" his mother continued, "find anything interesting on your ride back?"

The glint in his mother's eye and her tone of voice brokered no arguments; she already knew something.

"How did you know?" he demanded.

"You forget Daine can tell if immortals are nearby," the Lionness said simply.

"Leon?" Thom called.

"She won't leave the mare, sir, and she still wants nothing to do with me," Leon replied from a stall.

Thom sighed, closing his eyes. "Just wait a minute, mother," he requested.

The bay mare, still muddy and unbrushed, was in her stall with her head held curiously over the door. Daine approached the stall with Thom, letting the mare lip her fingers and snuffle her hair while Thom hoisted himself over the barricade.

"Come on," Thom called gently, holding out his hand and stepping forward. "No one's going to hurt you here, they just want to meet you."

The immortal, bedraggled and muddy, was crouched almost under the mare's hindquarters, her hands wrapped around the horse's legs. Thom sighed and beckoned her forward again.

Her expressionless, pale eyes regarded him for several long moments, before she once again let him take her hand and lead her out from the under the horse – a routine repeated at every way stop they'd passed from Imdram to Corus, and a routine Thom was well sick of.

"Come on," Thom coerced, tugging her toward the stall door, "this way."

Daine opened the door, allowing Thom to lead her out of the stall and into the full light of the stable.

"Mother Goddess," his mother whispered, staring at his foundling.

"This is what I found," Thom announced needlessly.

"I swear, Thom, you are almost as bad as Sir Keladry with your ability to take in strays," the Lioness said.

"I resent that," Leon called out, and then clapped his hand over his mouth when he realised it was the Lioness he was talking too and not his knight master.

"You see what I mean about the lack of respect?" Numair said dryly to Daine, but there was a glint of humour in his eyes.

Thom looked at four people in front of him – his mother, Numair, Daine and Nealan of Queenscove. "Well?"

"When you find something, you certainly make sure it's worth finding," Daine murmured. "I can't talk to her."

"But you can talk to all the immortals," Thom argued.

"No, I can't," Daine disagreed. "I can't talk to Kitten for a start."

"Kit's a baby," Thom said, dismissing the argument.

"How do you know she isn't a baby?" Nealan questioned.

"Does she look like a baby?"

"Has she said anything at all?" Daine questioned.

Thom shook his head. "She doesn't speak, she doesn't eat, and she doesn't seem to sleep. She doesn't even change her facial expressions!"

"I have no fair idea what she might be," Daine finally admitted.

"I tried the Seeing Spell the first night after I found her," Thom offered, "and she's like nothing I've ever encountered before. She's got immortal blood in her for sure, but what sort I don't know."

Black fire flared around Numair; the immortal hissed and shrank against Thom's side.

"You're right," Numair agreed from within his spell. "Take my shoulder, Daine."

"Horse lords," Dained murmured after following Numair's instructions. "I've only seen a similar essence before in a water sprite, years ago."

"I remember that," Numair agreed, the fire fading as he finished his spell. "She's no water sprite though."

Thom listened to the rain thundering down on the roof of the stable. "Master Finch of the Golden Galleon said she controlled the weather. It hasn't stopped raining on us since we found her."

"More's the pity for us," Leon added gloomily.

Thom fought to hide a smile similar to those his mother and the others were fighting to hide; Squire Leon of Jesslaw's dislike of mud and filth was legendary amongst even the older knights.

"I'm going to look in my books," Numair said, "and talk to Lindhall and Tkaa. They might have some idea." The mage left the stables without waiting to hear their replies.

"What should I do with her?" Thom asked sharply.

"What have you been doing with her?" Daine asked.

Thom shifted uncomfortably.

"She likes Sir Thom," Leon announced wickedly. "Hardly lets him out of her sight."

"Thom?" Thom remembered that tone of voice well from his boyhood, and it never failed to make him feel like a three year old lad who was about to be punished for playing pranks on the servants.

"I don't think she likes being inside," Thom said. "We got her rooms, but whenever we got her to stay in one alone she'd just leave as soon as we turned our backs."

"And when you didn't get her to stay in one alone?" his mother asked.

Thom shrugged. "We stopped getting rooms and she stayed with the horses."

It sounded cruel, Thom knew, but it was less cruel than the immortal's agitation when he left her alone in a room at an inn.

"Leave her with me," Daine suggested. "She might get along with Kit or even Tkaa, and if she doesn't I'm sure the animals will keep an eye on her."

Thom looked at the immortal, his hand still firmly clutched by his. It was silly, he knew, to feel jealous of Daine for taking the immortal from him, but he couldn't stop the prick of emotion at the thought of handing her care over to someone else. Despite the scratches, the fuss, the shrieks and the hassle of trying to look after a strange immortal, Thom had grown used to her in a few short days.

"Okay," he said, "but _you_ get to be the one who tries to make her let go of my hand; I'm running out of scratch balm."

---

In the end it was decided it would simply be easier for Thom to walk to the immortal to the suite Daine shared with Numair.

"Do you think Numair will mind?" Thom asked the wildmage.

Daine shrugged. "He's used to strange creatures wandering in and out."

Thom glanced at the immortal trailing next to him. "She looks more human than animal though."

Daine didn't answer; they'd reached the door to her suite, and found it open already.

"Kit," Daine sighed, reaching down to scoop a young dragon into her arms, "I've told you not to open the doors unless I'm around. What happens if you get stolen?"

The dragonet chirped happily in Daine's arms, her scales shining colourfully in the torchlight.

"Come in, Thom," Daine said, carefully settling Kitten on a worn perch.

Thom followed as instructed, looking around the room quickly. He'd spent a lot of time in this room as a child, wanting to play with Daine's animals. When he'd started his page training, he'd discovered it was somewhere to relax when he had no punishment or extra work due, and as a result the room was as familiar to him as Pirates Swoop.

"What are you going to do with her?" Thom asked, leading the immortal toward a seat.

Daine shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe Tkaa can talk to her and tell us what she needs or want. I'm hoping for that, actually," the woman confessed.

Kitten chirped loudly, her scales turning almost white as she looked at the immortal.

"What's wrong, Kit?"

The dragon chirped again, loudly. Thom's immortal appeared to ignore Kit, her appearance as unchanged as ever.

"I don't think Skysong is pleased with your guest, Daine," a silvery voice murmured.

"Tkaa," Daine smiled at someone behind Thom. "Thank you for coming."

"I admit to being must curious when Numair described this one," the basilisk said. "Good evening, Master Thom, it is good to see you well."

"You too, Tkaa," Thom smiled, tugging the immortal forward again. "Do you know what she is, Tkaa?"

The basilisk paused, his tail clasped daintily between his forepaws as he studied the new immortal.

"I have never seen one like her before," Tkaa confessed.

"She doesn't talk to you?" Daine questioned.

Tkaa shook his head. "No."

"Do you know what she is?"

"In part," Tkaa said cryptically. "Numair believes she might be an elemental."

"Is she?" Thom asked, trying to remember what an elemental was.

"Not entirely. Partly, yes, but there she has human blood in her too."

"A half-immortal?" Daine gasped. "I didn't know that was possible."

Tkaa looked calmly at the wildmage. "You of all people should not think that, Daine daughter of god Weiryn."

"I didn't think elementals could… you know," Daine murmured. It amused Thom to see a light blush staining her sunbrowned skin.

"I did not either," Tkaa admitted. "However, elementals are far and few between, and the few that have crossed my path have never cared for enlightening my curiosity about them."

"What exactly is an elemental?" Thom questioned.

"An elemental being."

Well, Thom thought, _that_ helped.

"Numair explained it to me once," Daine added. "He said that they're the _essence_ of things. Beings made entirely of the essence, and they make things _fuller_ wherever they go."

Yup, very helpful.

"She's got water elemental in her," Tkaa said.

"So she's water?" Thom asked doubtfully.

"Essentially," Daine smiled. "But she's got a solid form, she's not just an essence, and I've never heard of that happening before."

Thom looked at the immortal still holding on his hand. "So what do we do with her?"

Daine shrugged. "Nothing. She'll do what she pleases."

Thom really didn't like the sound of that.

---

By the time Thom left the immortal in Daine's quarters, washed and changed, it was too late for him to still dine in the soldier's mess hall. He met a forlorn and hungry Leon in the empty room, and felt his stomach grumble loudly.

"Noble's hall should still be serving," Leon said hopefully. "They eat later than everyone else."

Neither Thom nor Leon's attire was particularly suitable for dining in the Noble's hall, but Thom figured that his family was controversial enough already; dining in something other than formal tunics simply wasn't enough to earn a gossip or rumour these days.

Thom tugged on the leather tie holding his horsetail back, making sure it was secure, and nodded at Leon. "Let's go, young squire."

They found the noble's hall still full, and a table near the door almost empty. Taking their seats at the end of the bench, Thom glanced quickly around the room. Neither King nor Queen dined in the hall tonight; doubtlessly they were eating in their private rooms, but Prince Roald and his wife Princess Shinkokami were both seated at the head table, deep in discussion with one another.

"Do you know what the immortal is now?" Leon asked quietly once servants had brought them bowls in which to dip their fingers.

"Tkaa thinks she's half an elemental," Thom answered, "but they're not sure how it's possible for her to have that half."

"The other half?" Leon asked curiously.

Thom shrugged. "I'd guess human, but I don't know for sure. Tkaa did say it was something to do with water, and maybe that's why its' raining so much."

"It wasn't raining in Imdram though, and she was there a long time," Leon pointed out.

"She was held captive there, maybe it was her way of punishing Glavestock for holding her."

The first dish arrived, and Thom accepted it gratefully. After weeks on the road travelling, the food here made his mouth water in anticipation.

"I don't mind not eating with my friends tonight," Leon sighed happily as he tucked into his dish. "No offence intended of course, sir."

Thom felt his lips quirk with a smile, but he shared the sentiment silently. Despite the gossip and the unpleasantness often associated with dining in the noble's hall, the food was undeniably excellent.

They were halfway through their meal when an uneasy hush settled in the noble's hall. Thom, his back to the door and his mouth full of duck, meet Leon's anxious gaze curiously.

"I probably should tell you," Leon said, "but I don't really want to."

Given the quiet of the hall, and the look on Leon's face, Thom was fairly certain he could guess. He closed his eyes and swallowed his food quickly, taking a deep breath to gather his courage. When he finally turned around, his fears were realised – the immortal was standing almost right behind him. Thankfully it looked as though someone – Daine, Thom guessed – had tried to clean her up. The tunic was clean and her hair was not as tangled as it had been.

Still, Thom doubted it was the travel-weary state of the immortal that held the dining-hall's attention.

"Sir Thom of Pirates Swoop," Prince Roald said clearly, "there is a blue girl standing in the doorway."

"Yes, Sire," Thom agreed after looking at the Prince. "Though she's more immortal than girl, if you know what I mean."

"Yes," Roald said, "the blue colouring made that fairly apparent. It's an interesting shade, don't you think?"

"Very interesting," Thom said.

"Does your friend require something to eat?"

Thom shook his head. "No, Sire, she doesn't eat as far as I'm aware."

"Then perhaps you might escort her elsewhere, so that those of us who do want to eat could do so uninterrupted?"

"Yes Sire, right away, Sire," Thom mumbled, stumbling to his feet. The immortal's hand immediately wrapped itself around his, almost as though she was steadying him.

"Thank you, Sir Thom," Roald said. If Thom wasn't so far away from the prince, he would have sworn there was a glint of humour shining in his clear blue eyes. As it was, Thom bowed stiffly and lead the immortal from the dining hall, Leon trotting swiftly behind him.

"Mithros," Thom breathed, "when Daine said she'd do what she pleased, I didn't realise that meant she'd just…" words failed him.

Leon was grinning.

"What?" Thom asked wearily.

"It would have disappointed them at the dining hall if Thom of Pirates Swoop didn't give them _something_ to gossip about."

Thom tilted his head back proudly and narrowed his eyes at his insubordinate squire. "And for associating with Thom of Pirates Swoop, Squire Leon, I assure you that your reputation will be similarly dragged through the mud for many years to come."

"At least if they're talking about you, you know you're doing something right."

The immortal tugged on his hand, surprising Thom. He looked at her, and she tugged on his hand again.

"I think she wants you to follow her," Leon commented.

"I hope to the gods she doesn't want to go outside in this weather," Thom said, allowing the immortal to lead him through the palace.

Five minutes later found them standing outside in the courtyard, the immortal content to simply stand in the downpour, refusing to release Thom's hand.

"You might as well go to bed, Leon," Thom called over the noise of the thundering water. "No point in us both getting wet to the bone and missing out on sleep."

"I'll make sure there's a hot bath ready for you when she's done whatever it is that she's doing," Leon consoled.

Resigned, Thom waved farewell to his squire with the hand not mercilessly gripped by the immortal, and hoped she didn't want to stand in the rain for too much longer.


	4. Chapter 4

**Title: **aqua vitae

**Summary: **Daine is a wild-mage, a half-god living in the human realm. Everyone thought she was one of a kind, until Thom of Pirate's Swoop finds a girl one winter, something stranger even than Daine.

---

**four**

Candlelight flickered warmly in the room, chasing away the cold shadows and reflecting brightly off Gydo's needle. From her seat by the chamber door, Gydo surreptitiously watched her mistress who was standing by the window.

Her mistress, tall and beautiful, raised a slender hand to the cold glass of the window, before lowering it and turning to face Gydo. Generous lips curved into a wry smile. "I'm beginning to think it will rain forever," the Queen said.

Gydo neatly tied off a scarlet thread, and selected a green spool from her sewing box. "Forever is a long time, milady. I imagine the clouds would run out of water before then."

The Queen laughed with delight, tugging her dark hair free of its pins. Gydo watched almost enviously as the monarch ran her fingers through the thick tresses. At almost fifty, Queen Thayet was as beautiful as she had ever been. Iron grey streaked the dark locks generously, and there were lines of laughter on her face, but age suited the woman and leant her an elegance Gydo never imagined she'd obtain.

"Still," the Queen murmured, once satisfied her hair was sorted, "it won't take long for the canals and sewers to flood. Jonathan is worried about the stability of the piers and markets if this rain continues; he's concerned the foundations might wash away."

Gydo looked past the queen into the black night sky as the rain thundered against the window. "It has rained before, my Lady," she said. "The rains will not last forever."

Thayet pinned her under a gaze Gydo was certain she would never become used to; it was level and intent and pierced right through her soul. "Did you see the immortal Alanna's young Thom brought with him?"

Gydo did not think Sir Thom would appreciate being referred to as 'Alanna's young Thom' being that the man was nearing thirty and had fought more battles than Gydo cared to consider. "No, my Lady."

The Queen sighed, turning thoughtfully to the window again. "Daine and Numair both find her fascinating of course, and if the palace gossip is to be believed, Thom finds it very tiring to have a young woman almost attached to his hip." The Queen smiled wickedly. "I imagine it's why he's refrained from marrying."

"The servants are afraid of it," Gydo offered. "I've heard them talking, they believe she is a spirit and they have no desire to mix with the unnatural."

The Queen laughed again, clearly amused. "What of you, young Gydo?"

Gydo shrugged. "I find it hard to believe a girl can control the weather, my Lady, even if she is blue."

The Queen was silent for a long time, evidently lost in thought. "I once found it hard to believe a woman could talk to animals, and that the creatures of our legends were real. I believe it is entirely possible."

Gydo was better trained to point out the Queen's husband could make the earth move if he so chose, so of course she would believe someone could control the weather. Instead, she started her stitching again, focusing on the tapestry.

"I will retire for the night," the Queen decided, "don't get up, Gydo, I'm still able to see myself to bed."

Gydo smiled, but paused from her work until her Lady had seen herself into the bed chamber she shared with King Jonathan. Only when the door closed firmly with a click, did Gydo fold up her tapestry and tidy the room before retiring for the night.

---

Sixth Rider Group, under command of Evin Larse, had arrived some time mid-morning. Gydo, warmly wrapped in a thick quilted coat, braved the still falling rain to welcome them home, specifically Loesia. Meech was already there, helping the young Rider to brush a chubby pony with a mischievous glint in its eye.

"Loey!" Gydo called happily, leaning over the stall door.

Loesia, tall and dark and slim, smiled brightly at Gydo. "Gydo!" she said happily, her white teeth glinting against the muddiness of her face. "How are you, pet?"

Gydo rolled her eyes at the nickname, and pulled the stall door open.

"Wet, wet and more wet."

"We noticed the rain," Loesia said dryly. "We were worried the road would wash away before we could get back to the palace."

"The Queen says the King is worried about the stability of the piers," Gydo confided. "But tell me, how was your expedition."

"Only you, Gydo, would call riding around on a horse for three weeks in the mud, an expedition," Loesia sighed. "Wet and muddy, but nowhere near as bad as here. The winter rains are early this year all over the realm – there were two mudslides in the North West we got called in to help with. And then we had to dash across to the east because there were reports of pirate raids again near Fief Enman." Loesia shook her head. "We're concerned about all the pirate raids, Gydo, there's too many for this time of year – Commander Evin believes something is being planned."

Gydo nodded. "The King spends a lot of time in the war rooms with his counsel; the Queen has mentioned concerns about the Jindazhen."

Loesia nodded wearily. "With the Yamani being aided by Tortall now, their borders are easier to defend. Our borders are so much longer than those of the Yamani, it means our troops are spread thinner."

"Enough talk. You go clean up, Loey," Meech ordered, "I'll take care of Berry."

The pony, hearing its name, shook its head vigorously, landing several streaks of slobber on Gydo's coat. Gydo sighed and rubbed at it in vain; wrinkling her nose at the slimy green streaks.

"This," she said to Loesia, "is why I stay as far away from the beasties as I can."

Meech, in an apprenticeship as an ostler, rolled his eyes. "They only do it to you because they like how you complain."

Gydo glared at her brother. Loesia grinned and grabbed Gydo's arm, drawing her out of the stall. "I'll not say no to someone volunteering to do my work," she stated. "And I want to try and scrub the mud out from between my toes and everywhere else. We can talk on the way to the bathing hall."

---

Gydo left Loesia scrubbing three weeks worth of mud from her skin and was on her way to the Royal Chambers, when a familiar shape caught her eye. Covered in mud, his white fur almost completely obscured, a stocky dog trotted toward her, leaving muddy tracks in his wake.

"Jump?" Gydo asked, staring at the dog.

The dog yipped happily, his tail wagging from side to side.

"When did you get back, Jump?" Gydo asked, bending her knees so she should carefully scratched the dogs ears, trying to get as little mud on her as possible. Jump yipped again, and let her scratch his ears. "Where's Keladry, Jump? I'm assuming she's here too."

The dog, as though understanding her question, moved away from Gydo's now muddy fingers and trotted eagerly back the way he'd come. Looking at her fingers in distaste, Gydo sighed and rubbed them on her already dirty coat. It took her two seconds to decide to follow Jump in favour of returning to the Royal Chambers – after all, the Queen had given her leave to do what she pleased until the noon meal.

Keladry of Mindelan, along with her temperamental gelding Peachblossom and a small army of sparrows, was in the stables of the King's Own. She smiled in welcome when she saw Gydo, though she didn't stop brushing her gelding.

"How are you, Gydo?" she asked.

"Well enough, my Lady."

Kel rolled her eyes. "Kel, Gydo, it's Kel. Remember?"

Gydo smiled shyly; Keladry of Mindelan was a hero in her eyes, and as a hero she deserved all the recognition and respect she could get.

"I sent Jump to find Daine," Keladry was saying, "but I think he must have gotten confused."

The dog barked once, and an amused voice responded from the next stall over. "I don't think the dog got confused, Kel, I think he knew who he was likely to get a treat from."

Owen of Jesslaw peered around the stall at Gydo. "Am I right?" he asked.

Gydo shook her head apologetically. "I had no treat for him, I'm afraid, Sir Owen."

Owen sighed theatrically.

"Jump did call me," Daine called, "but we were in the middle of something. I'm sorry I was delayed."

"No need for an apology, Daine," Keladry said. "I just wanted you to take a look at Hoshi's right fore- What is _that_?"

Gydo stared at the being which had earned Kel's astonishment. The immortal which had been the talk of the court for the last three days, was every bit as strange and unusual as the gossip had made it out to be. Silently clutching the hand of a tall man Gydo recognised as Sir Thom of Pirate's Swoop, the immortal showed absolutely no interest or sign that she was even aware of the world around her.

"This is our latest curiosity," Sir Thom said wearily. "You want to have a go with her, Kel? Strange things normally like you."

Keladry raised her eyebrows. "Just what do you mean by that, Thom?"

Thom, not the least concerned about raising Keladry's ire, shrugged carelessly. "I remember a griffin adopted you when you were a squire, there's a strange band of animals that follows you through absolutely anything, and two years ago a Centaur called Greystreak terrorised the countryside looking for you because he remembered you looked like good breeding stock."

Kel's face, to Gydo's amusement, flushed brightly at Thom's last statement, and the Lady Knight didn't look particularly pleased to be reminded of those facts.

"Well," Kel said smartly, "then it's time you had something strange attach itself to you, isn't it?"

"She has attached herself to me," Thom said plaintively. He held out the hand gripped by the immortal, and shook it slightly. "See? She won't let go!"

Gydo couldn't fight the smile that threatened to escape, so she ducked her head and stared at her muddy boots.

"I don't need another immortal to lug around, Thom, this is your problem. What is she, anyway?" Kel said.

"Daine, Numair and Tkaa all think she's a half elemental. They think she might have some influence over the weather by water."

"Well, that's certainly a problem. Why don't you just make her let go?"

Thom sighed with irritation. "She fights me, and then sulks around until I emerge from my chamber or where ever and reattaches herself to me. Damn it, Kel, I don't have time to walk around nursing an immortal!"

"Well, I don't either, and she's not my concern, Thom."

"I doubt she'd go to Keladry anyway, Thom," Daine said from Hoshi's stall.

Thom threw his head back in frustration. "The worst of it all is my so-called-squire is no help at all." He looked accusingly at Owen of Jesslaw. "Your brother is exactly like you," he informed him.

Owen grinned broadly, as though it was a compliment. "I guess you don't appreciate his jokes."

Thom scowled darkly and looked around the stables. Gydo felt her cheeks warm up when his gaze landed on her, dressed in her dirty coat and muddy boots with grime streaked across her fingers.

"It's Gydo, isn't it?" he asked her politely.

"Yes, sir," she agreed.

"You, Lady Gydo, are the only person in this entire stable worth anything," he said haughtily. "Everyone else has apparently forgotten the Code of Chivalry and no one is willing to help a fellow knight in a difficult situation. What is even worse," he declared dramatically, "is they deign to make a jest of my trial!"

Gydo's cheeks were burning; doubtlessly they were cherry red.

"Stop it, Thom, you're making the poor girl blush," Keladry said firmly. "And your histrionics are upsetting Peachblossom."

Thom eyed the gelding. "It doesn't take much at all to upset Peachblossm, Kel. In fact, I think I might have the better deal," he added, after glancing first at the horse and then at the immortal.

"Judging by those scratches on your hands, I doubt it," Kel said dryly. "If you wait a while, I have some salve that worked wonders on my hands when I had the griffin."

Gydo, looking properly at Thom's hands for the first time, realised Keladry was right – the poor man's hands were in a dreadful state.

"I can help," she offered shyly.

"With the immortal?" Thom asked with a smile, "I appreciate the offer but I doubt there's much you can do."

"I meant with your scratches, Sir Thom."

"Any friend of Kel's is a friend of mine, Lady Gydo, please call me Thom."

"I can heal," Gydo explained, feeling her cheeks warm with a healthy blush again.

"That's right," Kel murmured, "I remember Neal teaching you at New Hope."

"I would be in your debt, Lady Gydo," Thom said gallantly, holding out his hand still clutched by the immortal. "They taught me how to explode things and hide things at the City of the Gods, but they couldn't teach me how to heal, unfortunately. Alan got all the healing share of the gift, and poor Aly got none."

His hands, Gydo realised as she took them in her own, were large boned but graceful. The palms were hard with calluses, and fine scars from previous injuries decorated his knuckles. If court gossip was right, Sir Thom had inherited his mother's temper and had been involved in many, many scraps when he was a page.

Her Gift, pale pink, glittered prettily as she worked at his wounds.

"Thank you, Lady Gydo," Thom murmured.

She smiled at him, struck by the greenness of his eyes. "It's just Gydo, Thom."

He smiled at her, and Gydo felt a strange warmth in her belly.

"Good," he said, as the world narrowed down to his smile, "I'm glad we're friends then."

Me too, she thought, very glad.

---

_Thanks for all the comments so far – they're very encouraging! I should have the next part ready soon, and I hope you keep reading._

_As always, comments and constructive criticism are very happily received._


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